


Life Without Dolores

by mythstoorfoot



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Horror, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 15:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14547330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythstoorfoot/pseuds/mythstoorfoot
Summary: The next time William returns to Westworld, he must face the woman he cannot have and the man he has become. Big spoilers.





	Life Without Dolores

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic contains big spoilers about some major Westworld characters, so don't read on unless you've watched all 10 episodes of the first series!

You start out trying to seduce the first pretty young thing you see, the one with the loose curls and easy eyes, but she's far too willing and that just takes all the fun out of it for you.

So you mope around a bit at the bar, sipping on whisky and wondering absently if these things can actually get drunk like real people. They drink enough of the stuff that they should all be on their asses on the floor all the time, so you think probably not. You see a couple of bar fights. A guy shows off to his buddies by putting three of the hosts out cold with nothing more than his fists. That starts to get old pretty fast, especially when you've seen how much easier they go down with bullets, so you get up and take a look outside.

It's dusty and hot and it smells like horse shit. Just like you remember. Nothing has really changed, least of all the hosts. You recognise their faces, like old friends you might have met in a distant dream, as they pass you by and tip their hats on the main Sweetwater thoroughfare. No, you're the one who has changed. Your clothes are black now. There's a wedding ring on your left hand. And the biggest change, but also the most imperceptible, the one you can only tell in the mirror when shaving or washing your face: your eyes are hard where they once were soft.

It almost feels wrong being here without Logan. You smirk at that thought, and it passes quickly.

There's one face you don't want to see. It'll only make you miserable. You know where she'll be, of course you do, she'll be by her horse where she always is, dropping her tins like she always does. You know all you have to do is walk in the opposite direction. And yet here you are, your feet leading you through Sweetwater towards the hitching post, and there she is, looking like the most perfect thing in their world or yours. She's talking to one of the guests, someone who will never know her like you do, someone that should be you by all rights. She smiles and it cuts a chunk out of your heart, just like you knew it would. In a brief moment of madness you wonder if you should stay with her here, under the blistering sun and shimmering stars and beside hay bales and horse shit and, even if she just kept forgetting over and over, if all of it would be better than being in the real world.

It probably would. But Westworld taught you something important about yourself the first time around: you're a sucker for self-harm.

So you turn and walk away, away from her and fleeting happiness and real happiness and all of it. Instead, you shoot the first cowboy you see. You leave him, bleeding out through the dust and the screams, and you steal his horse and ride away as fast as it will go. You ride until your head feels clear again. You look out at the beauty spread out all around you, the weeping trees, the hiding river, the bleeding sky as sunset starts to colour the land in guts and blood. It's untouched and perfect it makes you understand everything all at once. Then you ride on to the nearest settlement, a huddle of squat buildings silhouetted against the reddening clouds, and you go through the houses and shoot everyone you find.

It feels good. You feel cold and sharp as steel and you like it. Your hands and your wedding ring are spattered with blood. You wash in the river, feeling the water like the blood in your veins as the moon peeks its head through the clouds.

_This is who I am now_ , you think.  _This is who I am if I can't have her._

You force yourself to smile, even though there's nobody there to see. The night is still but your heart is beating fast, and you can feel the shackles of destiny closing tight like the clouds covering the moon in dark. And so begins your life without Dolores.


End file.
